Blog Tour UNDER THE STARS by Tia Louise

Under the Stars, the stunning conclusion of the thrilling, white-hot second-chance Bright Lights Duet from USA Today bestselling author Tia Louise is available NOW!

Under the Stars

All around us was darkness and night…

I’m not a hero. I’m a survivor.

I had one way out, and I took it.

Now all I want is peace,

A place to pick up the pieces and start over.

But she wants justice.

Names on a list, faces in the crowd.

I vowed to help her, but it’s taking us back to the demons.

Until he appeared.

I thought he died in the fight.

I was wrong.

He’s here.

Stronger, more powerful… Sexier.

And dangerous.

The boy I loved is now the one man we have to fear most.

When he tried to save me, he had no power.

Now everything has changed, and he’ll never stop until I’m his.

Excerpt:

~ Lara ~ We stop walking and turn to face the emerald waters. The briny air pushes her hair back and around her shoulders. Tendrils spin around my face, and the inescapable sorrow filters through my chest. “I can’t do this anymore.” “Yes, you can.” Her voice is flat, and she bends to put Pierre on the dry sand. “I’m going up. How much longer will you be out here? Celeste is making Quiche Lorraine for breakfast.” Another sigh. “I’ll be up in a bit. I’m finishing my exercise.” “Don’t stay out too long or I’ll eat all the food! Come, Pierre!” I watch her run up the tall staircase, her little dog at her heels, thinking of the reasons she has to run. I remember her as a small girl on the street, in the dark alley behind the theater. She was thin and starving and hunched in the corner waiting to die. She was so malnourished, I thought she was younger than her actual age, which was twelve. I remember carrying her inside and fighting with Rosa. I remember Rosa boxing my ears and telling me the first time that kid cried, she’d throw us both in the alley with the rats. I remember the terror I felt that night and Molly falling asleep so quietly with her head on my chest. She needed me. She loved me, and I loved her fiercely in return. I remember her running around the theater, a sweet and innocent kid never suspecting the hawk was circling above, watching her, closing in to steal her soul and warp her future. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to her. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect her. A flash of pain moves through my stomach, and I remember someone saying the same words to me not so long ago… Walking to the edge of the water, I look out at the surf, at the waves rushing in and out. I think about how nothing bad can happen here. The sins of the past are far, far away from this beautiful place. Only it’s a lie. The sins of the past are never far away. We carry them with us in our hearts wherever we go. No matter how far we run, we can never outrun ourselves. Tears are in my eyes, and I blink them away. My emotions are so close to the surface these days. I squat and wrap my arms around my knees, holding my insides together and wishing… My wishes never come true. “Lara!” A strong male voice cuts through the breeze. For a moment I don’t believe it. It’s a wish caught on the wind and carried away out to sea. “Lara!” It’s louder this time, closer. Nervous anticipation floods my chest. I stand and look up and over my shoulder. The staircase where Molly descended is empty. The one ahead of it is empty as well. Was it a dream? Another shout, and I realize it’s coming from behind me. Turning, I see a tall figure jogging down the steps. He’s alone, and he’s moving fast. I look around, and no one is here. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. My heart alternates between beating out of my chest and dying. I’m back on that train, seeing him for the first time out of the blue, completely caught off-guard, alternately panicking and rejoicing… He’s alive! He’s wearing faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His caramel hair is a little longer, but not much. It moves in the breeze as he approaches me. He’s strong and pure and gorgeous as ever, and the way we touched, our glorious reunion is stronger and hotter in my memory than the sun climbing higher in the sky. I want to cry. I want to sing. I want to hold him… But now everything has changed.

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About the Author:

Tia Louise is the USA Today best-selling, award-winning author of When We Touch, the “One to Hold” and “Dirty Players” series, and co-author of the #4 Amazon bestseller The Last Guy. She loves all the books (as long as they have romance), all the chocolate (as long as it’s dark), strong coffee and sparkling wine. After being a teacher, a book editor, a journalist, and finally a magazine editor, she started writing love stories and never stopped. Louise lives in the Midwest with her trophy husband, two teenage geniuses, and one grumpy cat.

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Blog Tour for A Different Game by Charlie M. Matthews

Book: A Different Game (A Wrong Game Novel)

Author: Charlie M. Matthews

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: 30th January

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Add to your reading list now: Goodreads

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Blurb

You know that saying: One man's trash is another man’s treasure. I found out that it was true. At least, that's what I’d thought a year earlier when a few stolen moments with this one, unexpected girl, turned my heart to mush. I thought she was different. I thought she was special. But it turned out I was wrong. I was the kind of guy who learned from his mistakes quickly, so I moved away, threw myself into my budding football career, and I was determined to make something of myself and focus on my future. And it worked, despite me missing her. For a short while, I had everything figured out again. Then, in one split second, it was all gone, ripped out from beneath my feet. An injury forced me back home to Winslow to face the world I’d left behind. But I wasn't the same man when I returned. I was different now. Too different for everything to go back the way it was before.        -Jake   I wasn't the relationship type. I was the girl who mothers warned their sons about. I was the local piece of trash. At least, that's what they all thought. None of them ever really knew me at all. None of them except him. And then he left me… alone and confused. He forced me to hate him, to hate them all. I wanted to drift away. Leave Winslow far behind me and start afresh someplace else. Someplace new. Somewhere I could become anything and anyone I wanted to be. But then he came back, dragging with him every moment, every explicit memory I had of us together and dumping them unceremoniously at my feet. I wanted to keep hating him. I wanted to resist. But he was different now. So cold, so angry, and sexy as all hell. He’d changed, and all my plans for a happy ever after were shattered the moment he made the decision to return and show me exactly what I’d been missing while he’d been gone. I was screwed. -Melanie

About the Author

Charlie M. Matthews is a hopeless romantic, lost in her own world of fairy tales and adventures. A lover of art and painting, she’d happily trade in her everyday clothes in exchange for a paint smudged shirt. In the confines of her attic room, she is able to create a world that is unlike no other. Mixing fantasy and fiction to generate a piece of work that she could so easily lose herself in. With her wild imagination and passion for reading, Charlie stumbled upon a new love. Writing… What started as a distraction from the crazy little thing that is ‘life’, it soon became all too real. She no longer dreamt about the day her words would be published for all to see because that day had finally come true. It 2015 she released her first novel and hasn’t looked back since. Charlie is a mum of three beautiful children, living in a small village on the outskirts of Oxfordshire, England. Born and raised in the busy town of Reading, she switched the bright lights and traffic jams for a quiet life in the sticks a little over eight years ago. Between school runs and generally just doing the whole ‘mum’ thing, you’ll most likely find her slobbing out on the sofa, shouting at the tv screen while her favourite football team (Arsenal) are tearing up the field. And yes, no doubt there will be beer involved, or if she’s feeling extra girlie, maybe even a glass of vino.

Connect with Charlie on social media

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Twitter: @C_MMatthews

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Other books in the series

The Wrong Game

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A Husband for Hire by Patricia A Knight - Release Blitz

Book: A Husband for Hire

Author: Patricia A. Knight

Release Date: 31st January

Genre: A Regency Historical Romance

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Synopsis:

Lady Eleanor Russell needed a husband. Immediately. With no male heir, when her father died, the vast family estate would revert to the Crown. But no man would choose an unattractive, outspoken, independent, spinster of mature years as a bride—so she’d buy a husband. An impoverished third son of aristocratic birth, Lord Miles Everleigh, tall, elegant and immensely handsome, relied on wealthy widows to clothe, house and feed him. In exchange, they received a charming, accomplished companion, both in and out of the bedroom. But this lifestyle wore away a man’s self-respect; he was not the male whore his step-brother had named him. When Eleanor “bought” Miles as a husband, she never intended to lose her heart. When he accepted her proposal, Miles never imagined he’d want more from Eleanor than her money.

Excerpt:

Excerpt of A Husband for Hire by Patricia A. Knight

© Patricia A. Knight

Chapter One

London, late February 1814

“T

hese are the best marital prospects you can discover? In all of London?”

The Lady Eleanor Constance Russell, sole offspring of The Right Honorable Earl of Rutledge and The Right Honorable Countess of Rutledge slapped the sheet of paper she’d been reading down on top of the mahogany desk and bestowed on her London barrister the look of a woman at her wit’s end. Grief for her dying parents and a sense of utter desperation had driven her to actions she considered borderline insanity. If she accepted any of the names on this list, she might as well rent rooms in Bedlam. Eleanor fought the hysteria surging in her breast and tried for a more cajoling tone. “Surely you can come up with more worthy candidates?”

The barrister who had served her family for the last forty years sat immobile in his great chair, hunkered down behind his great desk, his hands steepled in front of his narrow-lipped mouth. “This was no small task you set before me, Lady Russell. We are at war with France. Many of our most eligible men fill our army and navy.”

Her troubled gaze swung outward. Outside the windows of Elsington & Elsington, the London hansom cabs clopped past in the traffic-clogged street. Everyone had business to conduct it seemed. With a heavy sigh, she returned to the issue that had torn her away from the bedside of her failing but beloved parents and the celebrated stud farm into which she’d poured twenty-plus years of her life.

Her eyes flicked to the sheet in front of her, and she jabbed at it with an index finger.  “Sir Clive Wellery. Fifty-six years of age, just interred his fourth wife, has no property of worth, eleven dependents ranging in age from two months to twenty-two years, known for a propensity to overindulge in spirits and gambling, currently renting a six-bedroom house in Bloomsbury.” She shuddered and whispered, “Eleven children.”  Her eyes rose and gazed at the gentleman across the desk from her then dropped back to the paper.

“Lord Hilary Vance. Sixty-four years of age, of no property or spouse. No dependents, an unfortunate victim of the ‘China disease.’”  She cleared her throat. “I understand there is no opium den he does not frequent.” 

The barrister sat motionless in his chair and gave her a disapproving frown. She rolled her eyes. “I am thirty-years-old, sir. I’m not an ignorant debutante.”

“I disapprove of your unorthodox education, Ma’am. It did you a great disservice, and so I told your father.”

You old fusspot. Eleanor swallowed her retort and returned her gaze to the page on the desk. “And then there is Sir Aubrey Dedham… really, Mr. Elsington? Really? The fellow lives at the molly houses.” She frowned as her barrister stirred awkwardly in his high-backed chair. “Did you think I didn’t know the meaning of the term? How am I supposed to persuade a sodomite into marriage with a woman when he is not inclined toward women in the first place?” She scowled. “Though perhaps my possessing no feminine attributes is a recommendation.”

“Lady Russell, please…”

Eleanor held up a gloved hand. “Stop. I know what you are going to say. £30,000 will make any man blind. And this last entry.” She sighed and relaxed her upright spine for one moment before resuming her erect posture and folding her hands in her lap. “This last marital candidate.” She could feel the heat climb her neck into her cheeks at the thought of a man that elegant ever giving her a second look and if he did… she’d probably turn and flee.

“The Lord Miles Everleigh, twenty-five, the third of four sons, whose eldest brother is the new Duke of Chelsony. I understand Lord Miles lives on the charity of “friends” in return for his convivial companionship and educated guidance on the purchase of fine bloodstock. What could induce…”

She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened. How had she come to this? Was she going to go through with an action that in her more rational moments caused her to lose the contents of her stomach? In short, yes. The alternative was even more appalling.

 One thought of the manor house with its 100,000 acres of attached properties and villages all peopled with men and women who relied on her family for their livelihood... the thought of all this reverting to the Crown because of some quirk in the laws of primogeniture? Accompanying the loss would be the upheaval and complete displacement of the lovely Thoroughbred mares and stallions of impeccable breeding whose pedigrees she could recite to the nth generation and all their offspring, in short, the entire racing stud she’d helped her father make so fabulously successful. Well, it was enough to make anyone cry.

Despite having three torturous seasons on the marriage mart ten years ago, no eligible man—there’d been numerous made ineligible by virtue of being unacceptable to her parents or unacceptable to her—had stepped forward with an offer to make her his wife. All the wealth and property she would bring with her was insufficient incentive to overcome her plain features, awkward deportment and utter lack of the slightest feminine attribute, so… she’d have to buy a husband—and soon. With no male heir, upon the death of her father, the estate, and all its entailed properties would be subject to the peregrinations of escheat.

“Mr. Elsington…please. What could possibly recommend me to Lord Miles Everleigh? Even rusticating as I have been, I hear the on-dits about the ever-so-handsome and sophisticated Lord Miles Everleigh. There will always be other options for a man like this, much better options than a gawky plank of an ape-leader with shriveled social skills who reeks of the stables and is his senior by five years.”

The man across from her cleared his throat. “My lady…if I may be allowed…” He looked over his pince-nez. “The marriage agreement that you have required me to draw up demands a gentleman of a certain …” He shifted uncomfortably. “Ah…”

“Let me assist you. The word you want is desperation. It wants a gentleman who has reached a point of desperation. Well, Mr. Elsington, find more candidates. This week. I’m running out of time.”

“Err, yes, Lady Russell. Quite.” His eyes softened. “How is your father, my lady?”

Eleanor dropped her eyes and fought for composure until she was sure she could speak without succumbing to tears. “The physicians tell me, ‘at most a few months’. He could go at any time.”

“My sincere regrets, ma’am. Lord Rutledge is a fine gentleman.”

With a murmur of thanks, she inhaled and rose to her full height. Mr. Elsington was not a short man, but as he stood to escort her out, she topped him by a full head, reminding her yet again of her abysmal lack of any physical feature possessed by an even a moderately desirable woman. She hardened her jaw as she marched out of the law offices to her waiting carriage. There was no point in dwelling on a source of immense hurt that her adoring parents and formidable fortune hadn’t protected her from, nor the reasons for her present desperate action. She decided on the instant to go to the one place in all of London where she’d always felt at home regardless of the strictures of polite society and Richard Tattersal’s distinct lack of welcome for those of her sex.

“Take me to Tattersalls, John. They have advertised some young breeding stock I want to inspect. We need some outside lines to cross on Dare To Dream.”

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“Yes, your ladyship.” With a tip of his beaver brim, he helped her into the carriage and climbed onto the box. At John Coachman’s instruction, the groom stepped away from the leaders, sprang to the back of the carriage and the team of beautifully matched bays stepped smartly away.

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Meet The Author:

Patricia A. Knight is the pen name for an eternal romantic who lives in Dallas, Texas with her horses, Italian Greyhounds and rescue mutts—and the best man on the face of the earth—oh yeah, and the most enormous bullfrogs you will ever see. Word to the wise: don’t swim in the pool after dark.

Connect with Patricia on social media: Facebook

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